


scatter (you make me)

by seuta



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Minor panic attacks, OCD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 12:39:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13167108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seuta/pseuds/seuta
Summary: “Hey. Hey, you. You’re really cute. Kiss me again.”also available inрусский





	scatter (you make me)

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this _purely based on my own experience with ocd._ i don’t knwo what its like for everyone else with it, if it’s different at all or what, but i based all of it off of the urges i get, etc. 
> 
> ok on that note;; unbetad and also written in an insomnia induced haze, so i apologize for any mistakes ♡
> 
> also: i honestly had no plan for this i wrote it all in one go it’s 4am i’m so sorry if this is shit i’ll go back and fix it at some point ,, for now i’m sorry abt any plot holes or rushed endings xo

♛

There’s a boy. Changbin can see him, wandering the halls with a sort of closed off, lost expression on his face, earbuds in his ears and earring glinting, his phone clutched in one hand. It’s strange, seeing someone in the studios this late at night. Normally Changbin is the only one here at these hours, everyone else long asleep, leaving Changbin to write pages and pages of unused words.

There’s a boy, and he’s here, and they’ve made eye contact through the glass of Changbin’s studio door. It isn’t _Changbin’s_ studio, per se, but it’s the studio he uses on nights like these, when his dorm room won’t do, and his roommate snores too loudly or brings a girl back. His pages of words are stored under a cushion of the overused leather couch in the corner. It’s a public studio in the music hall, free for use of university students, so he stores them there to keep them away from everyone else. 

There’s a boy, and he’s approaching the studio. Changbin groans internally, and clicks his pen three times, closing his black notebook gently. The edges of the used pages are worn and yellowed, coffee stains showing up occasionally on the lined paper. He bites his lip and tries not to look at the boy walking his way, and instead on the thick silver ring on his finger, or on counting the stitches in the seam of his hoodie, or which words would complete the sentence forming in his head, or-

There’s a knock on the door. Changbin looks up under the brim of his hat, doing nothing to fix his slouched position in his chair or the dark expression on his face. The boy smiles apologetically through the glass, and taps it again, pulling one earbud out of his ear. Changbin sighs again, and stands up, tapping the side of his thigh three times before walking the five feet to the door, lugging it open. 

Changbin grunts as a greeting, not trusting himself to use his words properly. He resists the urge to even out the strings on the other boy’s hoodie. It’s white and soft looking, big English words in checkered font across the front in black and white and yellow, and Changbin kind of wants to bury his face in it, but he doesn’t- instead he forces his eyes upward to meet soft brown ones. 

“Hey,” The boy says, thick lips quirking up at the corners. “I, uh- Sorry to bother you, but I’m a vocal major? And I’m new, I just transferred from uh, Australia-“

“Your strings are uneven.” The words are out of Changbin’s mouth before he can stop himself. He curses inwardly. 

The other boy blinks, words dying in his throat. “What?”

“Y-Your hoodie,” Changbin stammers, a blush forming in the tips of his ears. “Sorry, let me just-“ 

He reaches out with both of his hands, using his foot to prop the heavy studio door open. Gently, oh so gently, he pulls on the strings until they’re even, trying his hardest to disregard the way the other boy’s gaze is burning into him. 

Changbin pulls back quickly. “Sorry.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” The other boy smiles, all teeth and crescent-shaped eyes, and a sentence forms in Changbin’s head. He repeats it to himself like a mantra to not forget it. 

“But, uh, I was gonna ask if you knew where the practice rooms were?” The kid chews on his bottom lip. 

Changbin stays quiet, opting instead to point with one finger down the hall, and then jerking his hand to the right, trying to show where the kid should go without opening his mouth and saying something dumb. 

The kid smiles hesitantly. “Thanks.” He nods, and then puts his earbud back in his ear, giving Changbin a thumbs up before heading down the hallway in the direction Changbin had pointed. 

As soon as he’s gone, Changbin lets the door close and practically throws himself into his chair, clicking his pen three times before opening his little notebook and scrawling down words in messy Hangul.

♛

_I don’t know you, but you make me want to._

♛

Ink stains Changbin’s fingers. He didn’t really mean to fall asleep in the studio, but it’s kind of a regular thing for him. It’s still early, dark in the way that 6am can be, all grainy vision and dusky lighting, dust purple and three taps against his thigh when he stands up.

The studio is still deserted, and Changbin takes the opportunity to stash his page of notes under the couch cushion, slipping his notebook into the small pocket of his backpack. The backpack fits comfortably against his lower back, his straps on the longest setting possible. Jisung has told him constantly it’s not good for him, but he’s never really listened to Jisung before, has he?

He flips the light switch a couple (three) times when he leaves, letting the door swing shut behind him. He pads down the hallway, shoes not making any noise on the carpeting. His exit is the same as always- go down the hallway, keeping to the left, making sure his fingers brush the corner when he turns to the right, cutting through the vocal practice studios to the door onto the street. 

He taps each door as he passes. He likes the sound of his blunt fingernails on the glass, and how each sound is the same, each door the same thickness, each room with uniform interiors-

Except this one doesn’t have that, and Changbin’s footsteps falter. There’s a hoodie inside, cast haphazardly onto the cushions of a small worn couch pushed up against the wall, similar to the one in the studio. Changbin is so close to the door, he can just leave and it will be fine, and his heart will stop beating so fast and he’ll probably stop freaking out, but instead he pulls open the door, flicking the light switch (three) a couple times when he enters. 

The hoodie is soft on his ink stained hands. Changbin blinks at it, and wordlessly takes off his backpack and pulls it on, inhaling a sort of musky type of scent from the thick fabric. He slips his backpack back onto his shoulders and pulls the hood of the sweatshirt over his mussed up hair, evening out the strings subconsciously before turning around in his spot carefully and exiting, turning off the light (flicking it three times) when he steps out, closing the door behind him. 

He leaves the music building, stuffing his hands into the pockets of the hoodie. There’s a coin and a strawberry lollipop in the right pocket. There’s nothing in the left one. Changbin nods to himself, taking the 78 steps to the bus stop down the block. 

He has no classes until this afternoon, so he makes his way to his dorm, praying Jisung hasn’t brought a girl back, praying that Changbin won’t open the door to a girl gathering her things off the floor, a used condom in (Changbin’s) trash bin. 

It’s okay, because none of that happens. Instead, he opens the door to Jisung wrapping him in a hug, cheerfully patting him down. 

“Hey, did you fall asleep at the studio again?” Jisung’s voice is too bright for the early morning. Changbin winces. Jisung must notice, because his voice and his gaze softens. 

“Hey, sorry,” He says, closing the dorm door behind Changbin when he steps inside. 

Changbin turns around now, his mind already setting off alarms. “Uh, can you-“

“Check the lock?” Jisung completes his sentence, a smile on his face. Changbin trails off and closes his mouth, the anxiety rising in his chest ceasing as he watches Jisung check the lock once, twice, three times before turning back to send a comforting smile to the other boy. “It’s all good, hyung.”

Changbin smiles back, a small type of smile. He feels the coin in his pocket and slips his bag off his shoulders, throwing it onto his bed before falling down next to it, sighing. Jisung settles cross-legged on his own respective bed across from Changbin’s. “What’s with the hoodie? Is it new?” 

“Nah,” Changbin says. “Kid left it in one of the practice rooms. Thought I’d give it to him when I see him next.” 

“Yeah?” Jisung says, sounding genuinely interested in the idea of Changbin having interacted with someone on his own will. “Did you talk to him? What’s he like?”

He’s quiet for a second, mind running over his brief encounter with the boy. “He’s from Australia. He’s new, and he’s pretty.” He pauses, chewing on his bottom lip, and then groans. “The only thing I said to him was that his hoodie strings were uneven. Who the fuck says that? I-“ He cuts himself off, pressing the heels of his hands into his wrenched shut eyes. There’s a bubble of anxiety forming in his chest, and he can’t stop the small whimper from escaping his throat, helpless sounding. 

Changbin feels the bed dip next to him where Jisung sits down. “Can I touch you?” Jisung asks quietly, and Changbin hesitates before nodding tentatively, eyes still closed shut. A gentle hand ghosts across his shoulder and Changbin flinches a bit before relaxing. 

“Look, it’s not your fault, you know,” Jisung starts. “I don’t know what it’s like, to see things like you do, or to have urges like you do, but I do know that you’re free to say anything you’d like or do anything you’d like if it makes you feel more comfortable in a situation. And hey,” Jisung’s smirk is evident in his words. “This cute Aussie boy? You should totally go for it.”

“But I’m _weird,_ ” Changbin groans, pulling his hands off his eyes and looking up at Jisung. “I don’t- I’m not good at talking to people, or making friends, and honestly, dude, I’ve only seen the kid once. Just ‘cause he’s pretty doesn’t mean I wanna-“

“Smash?”

“Jisung-ah, what the fuck-“

“Hyung,” Jisung says seriously. “I’ve known you for what, two years? Three years? This is the first time you’ve ever shown interest in someone else.”

“Yeah,” Changbin says. “Yeah.”

♛

_Met you once, had me at sorry. Guess I’m just a sucker for apologies._

♛

Changbin’s class ends at 6pm. He leaves, the little black notebook in his backpack spreading a strange sense of comfort through his body at the mess that surrounds him, all loud and bustling. The warmth of the hoodie is nice too, all snug around his skinny frame.

He goes straight from his class to the studio. It’s relatively empty. One muffled voice can be heard from one of the vocal rooms, and Changbin can hear faint music from a distant dance practice room, but there doesn’t seem to be anyone in the recording studios Changbin usually works in. 

He cuts through the vocal practice rooms, tapping each door as he passes. He hesitates a little at practice room four. His feet carry him forwards though. 

He sits down in his little recording studio, and he writes. Most of the words he’ll never use. Hell, most of the words will never be seen by someone else, but that’s okay- it’s more of a therapeutic thing. To be able to have somewhere to let out every single thought is nice, Changbin thinks. It helps him a lot, what with his strange train of thought. 

He writes for hours. It’s 7pm when he gets to the studio, around then. When he next checks the time, a quiet knock on the door of his studio, it’s passing 2:30am. 

He turns around, and is met with tawny blonde hair and soft brown eyes. 

Changbin blinks. He’s shed the hoodie by now, and it’s draped across the back of the couch. There’s a coin and a strawberry lollipop in the right pocket. In the left pocket is a scrap of paper, messy handwriting in between lines. Truth be told, now that Changbin sees the boy, he regrets putting the little paper there, but he can’t really go over and take it out now. 

Changbin clicks his pen three times, placing it beside his notebook and closing said notebook gently so that the ink doesn’t smudge. He stands up, taps his thigh three times, and walks the five feet to the door, lugging it open. He’s intensely aware of the gaze of the soft eyed boy on his every action. 

“Hi,” The boy says. He’s hoodieless. 

“Hello,” Changbin says back, wincing at how raspy and unused his voice sounds. The boy only smiles back, peering into the room a little. 

“Uh, do you happen to know where my hoodie is? I left it in the practice room last night and it’s not where I left it...” The boy trails off. The hoodie should be out of the boy’s sight where it lies, based on the boy’s position in relation to the doorframe. Changbin nods, mostly to himself. 

“Yeah,” Changbin says. “I grabbed it so nobody would take it.” He reaches over, careful not to move his feet from his position on the ground, grabbing the hoodie with careful hands. He holds it out to the boy. “Here.”

The boy blinks, and then his lips spread into a surprised grin. “That’s so nice, thank you so much!” His words are bright and Changbin smiles back in spite of himself. 

“It’s no problem,” Changbin nods. 

The boy clutches the hoodie in his hands and bows shallowly. “I’ll be going now but... thank you, really.” His gaze softens and he nods, smiling, stepping backwards and then turning around to leave down the same way he did the previous night. 

Changbin silently congratulates himself on not screwing up the conversation, doing his best to forget about the scrap of paper he left in the hoodie pocket.

♛

_There’s a boy with soft eyes, and I want to know him. Maybe he’ll let me._

♛

When Changbin leaves his little recording studio, it’s almost 4am. He clicks his pen, closes his notebook, stands up, taps his thigh, slips the book into his back, flicks the light switch, and leaves, fingers brushing the corner of the wall when he rounds to cut through the vocal studios.

He taps each glass door as he passes. They’re all the same, and he likes that. All uniform, except-

Vocal practice room number four has a hoodie in it, draped over the back of the chair this time. It’s neatly placed. Changbin likes that. He stops, hand still on the glass of the door, and hesitates before entering, eyebrows furrowed. He flicks on the light (three times), stepping carefully to come to a stop in front of the hoodie. 

He picks it up. It’s still white, still soft in his hands, and when he slips off his bag to pull it over his head, it still has that cologne smell to it. 

Changbin pushes his hands into the pockets of the hoodie when e exits the building. In the right pocket is a coin, but no strawberry lollipop. In the left pocket is a scrap of paper, folded up neatly unlike the one Changbin left in there. 

Changbin nods to himself, taking the 78 steps to the bus stop down the block. He sits on the bench, pulling his knees close together to keep warm, and pulls the paper out of the pocket with gentle fingers, unfolding it with care. 

The words make him smile. The boy makes him smile.

♛

_I met a boy who told me my hoodie strings were uneven. I want to know him._

_Maybe he’ll let me?_

♛

That night, Changbin gets to the studio at 7pm, ignoring the texts from Jisung waiting to be read. He’s pretty sure at least one of them is informing him he’s being sexiled, but that’s okay- Changbin will probably end up sleeping at the studio, anyways.

His blue ink pen is almost dry, and it worries Changbin. He’ll have to replace it soon. 

There’s a thought that runs through his head about stars and he scribbles it down, almost missing the soft knock on his door. Changbin counts seven stitches in the seam of his hoodie before the knock goes again. 

Changbin clicks his pen and puts it down, closing the notebook. Instead of getting up- that can become tiring, when you think like Changbin does- he makes lazy eye contact with the tawny haired boy, motioning for him to enter with a nod of his head. 

The boy blinks before hesitantly opening the door. “Can- Can I come in?” The words are spoken quietly, like he’s afraid of waking someone. 

Changbin nods, attempting to keep his face neutral, attempting to hide how he thinks the cross earring adorning the other’s ear is attractive. 

The boy smiles, and steps into the room, stopping right inside the door. “Thanks,” he says. “Also, uh, I seem to have left-“

Changbin points to the hoodie, draped across the back of the couch, and the boy smiles slyly. “Thanks.”

Changbin watches as he picks up the hoodie, and fidgets in place. “Do you need something?” Changbin says. 

“Actually, hyung- can I call you that? Pretty sure you’re older than me- I need feedback on my piece for the review board this weekend,” The boy confesses. “You’re a music major too, right? I could really use a second pair of ears on this.”

Changbin nods. 

The boy grins. “Cool. I’m Felix.”

“Changbin.”

And so begins their new nightly routine, one that Changbin welcomes with open arms.

♛

_He reminds me of the way water filters through broken glass, all clear and soft and open._

♛

“Hyung,” Felix complains, pushing open the studio door. He’s early today by two minutes, something that makes Changbin uncomfortable, but makes him more uncomfortable to bring up, so he stays quiet.

“Yeah,” Changbin says, not looking up from the sentence he’s scrawling across the yellowed paper. 

“My coach is still saying I sound closed off, and it’s really annoying,” Felix complains, flopping down onto the worn leather of the couch. He’s wearing a new hoodie now, a yellow one with nothing on it. It’s been a couple of weeks since Changbin has seen the white one that brought them together. Not that he’s counting. 

Changbin presses a period down into the paper and clicks his pen shut, closing his notebook. “That is because you’re not singing through the front of your face, but through the top of your head.”

Felix scowls. “Yeah, whatever.”

“Can you-“

“Fix my hoodie strings?” Felix smiles teasingly. “Anything for you, hyung.”

Changbin smiles a small smile back. 

They’re silent, and then Felix speaks. “Why do you always do that?”

Changbin stiffens. “Do what?”

Felix shrugs, picking at a thread in his jeans. “Dunno. All of it. The hoodie strings, the light switch, the pen- all of it.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Changbin says, shoulders tight, a bubble of frantic panic beginning to rise in his throat. 

“Yeah, it does, though,” Felix frowns, leaning forward from his sprawled position. “You do all this weird shit. I wanna understand it.”

Changbin’s mind cuts off at weird, and his breathing becomes labored. It’s- not his fault, right? He’s not weird, right? It’s hard to tell, because it’s times like these when he realizes he’s the only one he knows with OCD and it’s really fucking hard, and Changbin doesn’t even notice the tears silently streaming down his face until Felix is knelt in front of him, wiping them away. 

“Hey, hyung, hey, woah, I’m sorry,” Felix is saying. Changbin looks at him with panicked eyes, flinching away from his touch, and Felix holds his hands up. “Oh, okay. Okay. Uh, can I-? Is it okay for me to touch you right now?”

Changbin shakes, hesitating before nodding almost imperceptibly. Felix nods. “Okay. It’s okay, hyung. I’m so sorry.” And then Felix is hugging him, and Changbin breathes easy, surrounded by the cologne he’s grown to love. 

“It’s okay, hyung. I’m here. It’s okay.” Felix babbles. Changbin has his chin hooked over Felix’s shoulder, and he leans back, face still tear stained but breathing smooth. He looks at Felix’s concerned face, and he smiles. 

“Yeah. It’s okay, Felix-ah.” The words are followed with Changbin leaning in a little bit. Felix freezes. Changbin freezes. Their eyes flit to each other’s lips, and then back to each other’s eyes. 

Felix swipes his tongue subconsciously over his bottom lip., and it’s hard for Changin not to follow the movement. “Is it cool to kiss you right now?” Felix’s voice is soft, like the first time they talked. 

“Yeah,” Changbin breathes, and then they're kissing, all soft lips against Changbin’s chapped ones. It’s so good though, not rushed, or messy or anything, just sweet and languid, two mouths moving together. 

“Hey,” Felix says, when they break apart. “Hey, you.”

Changbin hums, a small smile on his lips. 

Felix presses their foreheads together. “You’re really cute. Kiss me again.”

“Look who’s talking,” Changbin replies, but complies, pulling Felix in closer by the back of his neck, tapping the side of his neck three times before pressing their lips together.

♛

_I write a lot of words, but I can’t find words for you._

_My sky was ordered, and you scattered stars across it in disarray._

_I think I’m in love with you._

♛

**Author's Note:**

> comments / kudos adored !! ♡
> 
> tell me how u found this fic !!
> 
> [4 january 2019] thank u for 1k kudos i’m so happy this fic is getting some love since it’s smth rly important to me ♡♡


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